


Legacy

by PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)



Series: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clone Rights, Extended Families, F/M, Gen, Hamilton References, Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-12-04 17:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/PoliticalPadm%C3%A9
Summary: Anakin has killed the Emperor, now Padmé and Obi-Wan must restore the Republic, replace the Order, and raise the twins.





	1. Tears

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to the [third chapter of my Padmé saves the Galaxy AU, Fate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10881978/chapters/24180102). The plot is very loosely based on Eliza's part of the _Hamilton_ finale, which I could not get out of head after writing that story's epilogue.

_I put myself back in the narrative  
I stop wasting time on tears _

 

"Padmé."

She hears the voice as if from far away. Everything is far away. Her eyes are closed tight, her cheeks wet with tears, her hands curled into Anakin's tunic. His chest remains warm, but still and silent. His heart has stopped, and in that moment, she feels hers fail, too.

But someone is calling her. Pulling her back.

"Obi-Wan…" she whispers, turning into his embrace as he pulls her from the empty shell that was her husband, his brother, their closest friend. Their heart.

"I'll bring you home. You need rest." She'd given birth to twins an hour ago. Less. "The babies, too." She wants to see them, touch them. Know they are real, and hers, and Anakin's. But if she opens her eyes it's all true. Yes, she's a mother. But also a widow.

Padmé takes a deep breath and steps out of Obi-Wan's embrace. Her eyes flutter open as she meets his, as haunted and full of tears as her own. She holds his gaze for one lingering moment of grief before setting her jaw, dropping her shoulders, and raising her chin to the sky.

"Threepio." Her clear voice cuts through the subdued chatter and the room turns as one to find her standing as regally in her hospital gown as she had in her Queen's robes. The droid shuffles quickly to her side.

"Yes, Mistress Padmé?"

"I need you to contact my family on Naboo." She would need help with the twins and she trusts no one else. "I'm sending my ship." She glances past the droid to find Captain Typho by the door -- no one seems certain where to stand or what to do in the too crowded chamber -- he nods at her silent inquiry. "My parents, Sola and her family...I need them here." She returns her attention to Threepio. "Please tell them to come quickly -- and pay no attention to the holo. I'll explain everything when they arrive." The droid hastens away, mumbling concerns to himself. With another nod Typho follows, pulling outhis com to call in his own help. When it comes to Padmé Amidala, family is far more than just blood.

Padmé's face softens as she turns to Bail, and her infant daughter in his arms. "We need to address the Senate… no, the whole Republic, as soon as possible." Padmé pauses as Bail passes Leia over to her. She touches her forehead to the baby's briefly. "Denounce the Emperor, reveal his treachery and--" she stumbles over the words a moment, "And describe the attack on the Jedi as what it was. A war crime." She raises her eyes to meet Obi-Wan's gaze. "We need to find the survivors."

"Master Yoda is working on it," Organa explains. "I set him up on my ship. And our allies are gathering in my quarters."

Padmé nods. "We should join them." But she doesn't move. Anakin… _Anakin's body_ lies behind her. Leaving the room means leaving him.

"Excuse me?"

Padmé starts to turn toward the voice, but Kenobi, Organa, and another of her personal guard step forward to stand in between her and the clone who'd spoken.

"Step away from her, trooper,” Obi-Wan commands, brandishing his lightsaber.

The clone trooper steps back, hands up, confusion and concern stark on his face.

"He's not threatening me," Padmé argues, though she holds Leia closer to shield her. "Obi-Wan," she implores.  

With reluctance the Jedi deactivates his saber and addresses the clone. "State your business, then."

"Sir… what are your orders, sir?"

Obi-Wan frowns. " _My_ orders?" He exchanges a look with Bail. "Trooper, what do you remember of the last two days?"

"That's just it, sir. I remember… marching on the Jedi Temple… shooting every one I came across." He shudders at the memory. "They were the enemy."

"And now? Am I your enemy?"

The clone frowns. "No, sir." He glances away, eyes Anakin's body, still on the floor where he fell. "Lord Vader… he did something to me. I feel… I …. feel…" He shudders again and feels ashamed. He's a soldier. With a duty. Remorse and regret were luxuries he wasn't allowed, and shouldn't be able to feel at all. He turns back to Kenobi, to plead. "Please, sir, tell me what to do."

Obi-Wan's frown deepens. Whatever happened to the clones, apparently Anakin had undone it to this one. Perhaps they could learn from it, reverse the others… But he couldn't trust the trooper would not turn again. "Stay with us. But keep away from Senator Amidala, and the children."

The clone hesitates to agree. "But, sir," he starts but the doors open and six more clones enter. Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan again jumps in front of Padmé and Leia as Organa steps to her other side and the Nubian guards rush the troopers.

"Luke!" screeches Padmé, pushing her protectors away in her desperation to get to the baby, asleep on a pillow under the watchful 'eyes' of Artoo. Obi-Wan pushes her back behind Bail and turns to run to Luke but the odd clone steps into his way. As they watch in horror, the trooper brushes off Artoo's desperate attack, picks up the baby. . . and places him carefully beside Leia in Padmé's arms. She exchanges a look of shock with Obi-Wan as the clone steps back away from them and joins his brothers, who've now surrounded the group, but not to attack -- to protect.

"What's going on?" Padmé hisses to her Jedi friend.

"I don't know." He strokes his beard, thoughtfully. "He said Anakin did something to him. Perhaps he did it to all of them. Or at least more of them."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan says again. But he would find out. "Trooper," he addresses one of the newly arrived clones. "Report."

"There is much confusion, sir. Battalions are reporting massive casualties… all the Jedi, sir." Obi-Wan nods, noting the clone's oddly haunted expression. "The city is in upheaval. We came to protect Lord Vader's family, as ordered."

"Ordered by ...Lord Vader?"

"Yes, sir. We all received the missive."

"It was downloaded directly to our chip," another clone offers. Obi-Wan's eyes narrow, but the picture is becoming clearer.

Bail leans in to speak with Obi-Wan and Padmé in confidence. "We need to get to the others." He nods to the clones. "They're right about the city -- the whole planet is in an uproar, and rumors are flying. We have precious little time to regain control."

Padmé nods, and allows him to usher her out of the room. The clones move to follow but Obi-Wan raises a hand. "Troopers. I need your help." He commands them to pick up Anakin's body and carry him to Organa's apartment. Four of the troopers move in to raise the body, as two more flank them. The last, the one who'd spoken to Padmé, who'd spoken to Anakin directly, just before he died, holds back to walk with General Kenobi. To protect Lord Vader's family.

Obi-Wan watches the senators leave, the twins safe in Padmé's arms, Artoo trundling behind, and the clones carrying their burden with quiet honor. He kneels to pick up Anakin's fallen lightsaber, and follow them into the sunrise.


	2. By Your Side

_I interview every soldier who fought by your side  
_ _(She tells our story)_

 

Coruscant's overcast sky mirrors her mood. Twenty years ago she stood in Naboo's sun, dressed in waves of white, surrounded by allies, celebrating victory. She was jubilant. They all were. Sometimes she thinks it was the last time. And even then, their joy was steeped in a lie.

Ten years ago she stood in Naboo's sunset, dressed in layers of lace, pledging herself to love, but also lies. Alone with Anakin, and their droids. Artoo and Threepio stand beside her now, too. Her husband is gone.

Today's ceremony is subdued. Coruscant is uncharacteristically still. She stands center stage, dressed in elaborate robes of deep midnight blue and a silver headdress. Her children are dressed simply, in matching white tunics that more closely resemble their Jedi mentor's attire than their mother's. The weight of her regalia gives her strength, the layers of heavy fabric act as a kind of metaphorical armor, but she wants the twins to be comfortable. She'd prefer they not be here at all. But the Skywalker family is a symbol of resilience. Luke and Leia were born the day the Chancellor died, his Empire failed. They are light in the darkness, physical representations of the Republic renewed, seven years strong.

Padmé stands center stage, flanked by her children, her droids, her family and closest friends, additional representatives of the Jedi and the Senate, a small army of bodyguards, thousands of well wishers in the street, and millions more watching her address on the holonet. Yet she feels utterly alone.

* * *

"Viceroy Organa to see you, my lady."

She looks up at her personal bodyguard, the clone who'd first approached her after Anakin’s death, the one he'd used to heal them, and send a message of protection.

"Thank you, Vader."

Obi-Wan and the other remaining Jedi disapprove of the clone's choice of name, but Padmé finds it oddly comforting. He nods and withdraws to the adjoining chamber. She knows he intends to monitor the meeting. Vader takes his duties very seriously. She turns her attention to her colleague, and old friend.

"I don't want to keep you." It is not only a galactic holiday, and the anniversary of her husband's death, but her twin children's seventh birthday. The morning address was only her first, most public, task of the day. "But I notice you are still scheduled to speak before the full Senate next week."

Padmé nods, making an effort to appear light, and not wary. "I'm presenting the bill."

"We agreed-" Bail starts.

" _You_ agreed."

"We voted."

Padmé raises her eyes to his. They flash with a steely resolve. Bail sighs.

"Clone issues --"

"Clone rights," she corrects.

"Clone rights," he agrees, but she bristles at the overtly diplomatic tone he's affected, "are not a priority to a majority of the Republic."

"It is a priority to me."

"I do understand that, but --"

"You clearly do not," she scoffs, and starts to gather her things. She's had this argument more times than she cares to remember, and she has many, far better things to do.

"Padmé, please," he pleads, reaching for her arm. The Senate is already fractured, if the leadership does not present a united front he fears their days are numbered. "If we can't get support--"

"No." She pulls away with angry impatience. "We have compromised for years. For nearly my entire career--"

"Compromise is an integral part of democracy!" It is what sets them apart from the dictatorship they so narrowly avoided. "The Republic remains in a very precarious position."

Padmé exhales, her whole body tense.

"People are scared, Padmé. That's why we have these events, why we--"

"Hide the clones?" she suggests in a biting tone. Although normally at least two clone guards accompany her, and each member of Anakin's extended family, at all times, only three were allowed to stand on stage with them during the service this morning. The rest were in the wings or the audience. _That_ had been a compromise and while none of the clones objected, it bothers Padmé.

Bail sighs. He's tired of the argument, too.

"I know it's difficult, but, Bail, it's _wrong_."

"They are settled on Yavin--"

"Settled," she repeats. "That's a comfortable euphemism for imprisoned."

"That's not fair," he argues.

"Their movements are regulated."

"For their protection!" The clones, like the Jedi, have enemies, and others who want to exploit them. "There are many refugee populations in similar situations across the Republic."

Padmé shakes her head. “Similar, maybe, but not the same. The clones have no representation in the Senate." They are not even recognized as a population. "Their rights are not guaranteed until we pass this bill. As it stands, they could be dragged into another war tomorrow with no say in the matter."

"We won't let that happen."

"People are scared, Bail!" she shouts his words back to him. "It's exactly _why_ the bill is unpopular. No planet wants to send their own people to fight." An army of clone soldiers is too attractive to the worst elements in the Republic and beyond. And to the worst parts of even the best people, she knows first hand. But hiding them away is not the answer -- they must be set free to make their own choices.

"No one wants another war."

Padmé purses her lips. Her life has been defined by war, with more defeat than victory. She knows very well it doesn't matter what people want.

"I will not back down."

* * *

Padmé slips into the family suite quietly, hoping to change into something more festive -- and loose fitting -- before joining the party. Snatches of laughter drift up from the gathering below and she quickens her step. She needs to push off the dark mood as much as she does the formal dress. Her family deserves better than her stress and anxiety.

"Everything all right?"

It's no surprise he's watching for her. Obi-Wan pays as much mind to her, and her twins', movement as Vader and their other bodyguards. She imagines it is part penance and part paranoia. Much like her own. Padmé shakes her head. It’s a silly question, anyway -- something he seems aware of as he follows her into her room.

"How can I help?"

She shakes her head again. "I don't think you can."

"I can listen," he offers, and settles on the bed to encourage her. Padmé meets his eyes, sighs, and lets her top-dress fall from her shoulders to the floor. The underdress is silver, simple and formless, and she looks very young to Obi-Wan's eyes.

"I'm losing support in the Senate," she answers, reaching down to gather her dress. "The clone rights bill is unpopular. The _clones_ are unpopular."

Obi-Wan looks thoughtful. "They represent everything people want to forget,"he posits. "The war. The coup."

"Do you think I don't want to forget?"

Padmé glares over the ball of heavy, dark, fabric in her arms. Queen at fourteen, Senator for more than a decade, survivor of the Clone War, but she's never so visible as on days like today. To the masses she’s Skywalker's Widow. To the clones she's Lady Vader. To the Jedi and the Senate, she's a problem. But her isolation is not even the worst of it.

"Palpatine was my mentor. He _taught_ me to…" Everything. He taught her everything. And Anakin, too. "I question every decision I've ever made." They all made a hundred mistakes in dealing with the Chancellor, and with the Separatists he was secretly in collusion with. But she was blind to Anakin's deterioration. That's what is unforgivable. "Everything I am." Palpatine took her under his wing when she was a girl. How could she know if her ambitions were real or a clever lie? Who is she outside of who he made her? And now -- "Even now." -- Now, the people she'd fought beside her whole adult life, or longer, are asking her to be _more like him._  "I can't trust anyone."

Obi-Wan watches her drop the gown into a launderbot and pull something simpler, in blue, out of the closet. He wants to tell her she can trust him, always, but understands too well why she cannot. Guilt floods his eyes, as it has every week for seven years, and likely will for the rest of his days. He's silent as she trades silver for blue, lets her hair down, and brushes a pale powder over her face. When ready, she moves to the door, and he stands to join her. They walk slowly along the balcony.

"I can't -- I won't play politics. Not with this." She nods at the scene below: the twins and their cousins playing with Artoo. Ahsoka and Sola laughing. Owen, Rex, and Darred, in deep discussion. Beru directing Threepio to bring a drink to Cody and Vader, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and Jax, standing attentively behind the children. She can't see them, but she knows more than a handful of other clones are watching the same tableau she is. "Not with them."

_You are Lady Vader. I am sworn to protect you._

In the weeks following the collapse of the nascent empire, and Anakin's death, hundreds of thousands of clone troopers arrived on her doorstep, pledged to protect Lord Vader's family. Some few she knew, others she knew of, many more were strangers. Most had names and histories. Quite a lot were traumatized by the events just prior to Anakin's orders, the activation of their murder protocol that lead to the deaths of thousands of Jedi. There were reports of clones who fled, and some who committed suicide. Others were attacked by surviving Jedi and their allies. Padmé procured the Yavin moon as a temporary home base for the battalions who had reported to her and eventually all clones were moved there, under the 'protection' of the Republic. 

An elite squad of clones chosen by Captain Rex, who was surprised, and embarrassed, but gratified to find he was included in the membership of 'Lord Vader's family', were charged to fulfill the pledge requested of them all. Each member of the extended Skywalker family was assigned two personal bodyguards from the larger elite force. But all the clones are loyal to their Lady.

Bail is right to be afraid of the optics. The clones on Yavin and Coruscant are an army of soldiers bred to war, and every one is pledged to Padmé.

"I've spoken to -- hundreds of soldiers," Padme continues, eyes shining, remembering.

They spoke of the war. Of their Jedi generals, and the many layers of betrayal that had befallen all sides. They spoke of General Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, Lord Vader. A man she sometimes barely recognized, and other times felt intimately. All of them spoke of Anakin with respect and admiration, but also, they spoke of the respect, admiration, and affection Anakin provided to them. 

“I'm their voice. The only one they have until I win them their own."

She must win.

Obi-Wan places a comforting hand on her shoulder. He has no doubt she will persevere, but he wishes he could remove some of her burden. "...I don't pretend to understand what you're going through."

She glances at his waist, to the two lightsabers hanging from his belt. His own, and Anakin's, waiting for Luke or Leia to be old enough to wield it. "You have your own trials." The Jedi reformation is as arduous and heartbreaking a task as the restoration of the Republic or the emancipation of the clones. It is no wonder they are all exhausted.

"Padmé…"

She meets his eyes, wide with concern. "It's all right," she tells him. "It's easy to feel defeated today." It's the anniversary of the day the world ended. "Lost. And lonely." She misses her husband.

Obi-Wan's grasp tightens. "You're not alone," he asserts. A promise to them both.


	3. Running Out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, this chapter was difficult to write and I'm still not completely pleased with it, but at a point one must move on. Thank you for reading.

_ I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings  
You really do write like you're running out of time _

 

"Ready, she is, a padawan to be."

Obi-Wan remains outwardly still and silent, but Yoda senses the uncertainty he hides.

"Something to say you have, hm."

"She's so young, Master."

At not quite nine, the twins are even younger than Anakin had been when he'd begun training to be a Jedi.  When, Obi-Wan remembers with some irony, Anakin had been deemed too old. But while Luke and Leia stay with their family, their instruction as younglings has been otherwise similar to what they’d have received under the former Order. Padawan training is different, and likely more difficult to adapt. Obi-Wan wants more time, for Leia, and for himself.

"Perhaps," Yoda accepts. "But ready."

Obi-Wan frowns. "And Luke?"

Yoda frowns. "The boy has no patience."

"He's a child," Obi-Wan argues.

"Hm," Yoda grunts, his expression familiar to Obi-Wan. He'd seen it flashed at Anakin, and Qui-Gon, too, and he must swallow a knee-jerk defense and instead try to focus on young Luke.

"He will learn patience."

Yoda waves his hand dismissively. "Ready, his sister is. Teach her, I will."

Obi-Wan's eyes go wide in surprise. " _You_ will?"

"Yes," he answers, decisively, and jabs his finger at Obi-Wan. "Luke's fate, decide _you_ may."

With that, the ancient Jedi master took his leave. Yoda hadn’t stepped outside the Jedi Temple more than an hour or so since it had been rebuilt. More than ever, he represents the old guard. The Order that was, and is nearly gone.

* * *

 

It had taken weeks to clear the temple of bodies.

Coruscant was in upheaval. The city, the planet, the entire Republic. The streets, skies, and senate were full of panicked people jostling for power in the wake of Palpatine's death. Obi-Wan ignored it all to focus on preserving as much of the remnants of the Jedi Order as he could.

First, he interrupted the message he'd sent the week before, warning any surviving Jedi away, and replaced it with a new one. While the Sith were defeated, and the Empire overthrown, the situation remained tenuous and the Jedi remained in danger. Obi-Wan directed the survivors to rendezvous on Alderaan, a safe haven provided by the Organas, who housed them at the Queen's country estate. Bail said they may remain as long as necessary; he has as little to contribute to the restoration of the Order as Obi-Wan had to contribute to the restoration of the Republic, but he was more than willing to provide them space and time.

The message away, Obi-Wan turned to the task of collecting the dead. For days he worked alone, with only a medical droid, to complete the death certificates. Each body had to be identified, catalogued, and cremated. Obi-Wan did not know all of them, but he knew too many, and also too few. The work was physically and emotionally exhausting and when he returned to Padmé’s apartment in the evening, he was barely able to speak.

Nor did anyone press. Padmé's attention was divided between avoiding absolute collapse in the Senate and her newborn children. Her family, and a handful of former handmaidens, arrived days after Anakin's death. At first they tried to convince her to leave, to return with them to Naboo, but she would not go, so instead they remained. But while the apartment became increasingly crowded, they left Obi-Wan alone. Likely at Padmé's direction. She'd installed him into the room she’d shared with Anakin. She'd slept in the bed alone more often than not during  her short marriage, but it was far too painful to do so now.

"I'm already sleeping with ghosts," she'd said.

He hadn’t answered. But he understood.

* * *

Obi-Wan sighs, and walks down the steps. It takes an hour to travel from the temple to the apartment and he intends to spend it meditating on what to do. Normally the steady thrum of a routine transport is comforting. Proof that Coruscant is thriving, that life goes on. Normally he drifts to a semi-meditative state and often arrives home with a clear mind. But tonight he can’t focus. Every noise is amplified, and annoying.

"You must let go, young one."

Obi-Wan sighs. That one most of all. Twenty one years have passed since Qui-Gon's death and he wasn't 'young' then. But when he was, he had difficulty learning to clear his mind and he’d heard the words many times over the years.

He opens his eyes to address the pale blue figure that appears to sit on the seat across. "Thank you," he answers, shortly.

"What troubles you, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan purses his lips. Qui-Gon, and who knows how many other former Jedi, haunt the halls of the temple. Not many as are as close to corporeal as his old master, however, nor as hooked in to what's happening. He has no doubt Qui-Gon is already aware of his dilemma regarding the twins, and Yoda -- he's asking for the context.

"I failed," he answers, hushed. "I failed Anakin. And the Council, the Order, Yoda, you… Padmé…" His voice breaks. "I'm afraid," he admits, "I do not want to fail again."

Flickering in the low light of the setting sun, Qui-Gon listens with compassion, but gives the only advice the Force allows. "Don't".

* * *

The afternoon of the ninth day, Padmé arrived with a few score of clones and one Ahsoka Tano. Obi-Wan swallowed a sob as the togruta drew him into a tight hug. She brought news from Alderaan, of survivors, and from that moment the work went quicker, with the clones to help, and the kernel of hope.

"Obi-Wan?" Padme entered the bedroom a fortnight later, one of the babies in her arms. Somehow just their presence was soothing. Not for the first time, he realized this was what Anakin was so terrified to lose.

"Just a day or so more, I think." Obi-Wan wondered what he would do when this task was done. Rebuild. Of course. But there were so many unknowns.

"Good." As she settled beside him, Obi-Wan identified the sleeping child as Luke. Padmé took a deep breath.

"Cody has arrived."

Obi-Wan started. "...Cody."

"Yes." Wide eyes watched him with concern. "Vader tells me he's --"

Obi-Wan flinched. "Vader--?"

Padmé lowered her eyes. "My aide," she explained. "The clone who -- spoke with Anakin…" Whom Anakin had used to reverse the Chancellor's orders. "He's chosen a name."

"I see."

"It's his way of honoring --"

"Yes, I." He clenched the sheet between them, gathering the strength to push the emotions away. "Yes."

A long moment passed in a heavy silence. Finally, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and attempted to continue the conversation.

"Cody?"

Padmé nodded. "He's -- there's some concern. He's traumatized. He's not the only one, many of the clones in the field, and especially the higher ranking ones seem to be…" She bit her lip and looked away. "I'm going to ask for help, request a base of operations. Somewhere new, I think it's important to have a new beginning." Obi-Wan tried to focus on her words, but a storm of emotions threatened to overwhelm. "And also away from … well it's hard, there’s a lot of distrust between…" She sighed. "Well, everyone, but I think the clones are especially not equipped to process…" The bed trembled beneath her and she turned to find the Jedi shaking uncontrollably. "Obi-Wan?"

"I'm sorry, I… I…" He lost the last remnants of control and broke into sobs.

Alarmed, Padmé ran to the door. Two clones were standing guard and just beyond them a pair of her handmaidens are watching Leia and Pooja. "Dormé." Her voice was steady, but the handmaiden sensed the senator’s distress immediately and rushed to her side. Padmé pressed a sleeping Luke into the woman's arms. "Master Kenobi … we need to discuss the next phases. Can you watch them tonight?"

"Of course, milady."

"Have dinner without us. And please, inform my parents."

Dormé nodded. "I will have a meal brought up." Padmé frowned, not wanting to draw attention to Obi-Wan. Dormé sensed the hesitation and added, "Ring when you are ready for it."

"Thank you." With a smile Dormé returned to the others, Luke safe in her arms. Padmé turned to the clone guards -- Vader, now her constant companion, and one of the newer arrivals she didn't know yet, but who bowed at her glance. "Keep watch, please."  _Don’' let anyone in_ , they understood. Padmé slipped back into the bedroom. Obi-Wan had not moved, and still shook with the emotions he'd held in -- well, most likely all his life. Padmé crossed the room and gathered him into her arms.

"I didn't - I couldn't -"

Padmé tightened her embrace in support. She didn't hush, she wanted him to speak, and she was willing to wait.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, when the tears were finally spent.

"It's all right," she soothed. "I've cried for days."

"No, I'm--" He raised his tortured eyes to hers. " _I'm so sorry_!"

She held his gaze a quiet moment. "I know."

"I should have--"

"I know," she repeated, eyes lowered, her own tears threatening. He leapt up at the sight, a sudden burst of pent up energy sent him to pace in front of her bed.

"I knew he was hurting… pulling away from the Order… Angry… so angry. I was… afraid."

He stopped mid-step in the middle of the room. "I failed him." He glanced to Padmé, watching from her perch on the bed. "I failed you."

The quiet fell again. Obi-Wan looked at his hands. For weeks they'd carried the bodies of his colleagues, his friends, his family. Carried to fires so their souls might be released into the Force. His body was tired and his soul exhausted. He saw Anakin everywhere. There he'd taught him saber skills. There they'd eaten dinner. There he'd fallen asleep in the library. There he'd beaten his master in combat for the first time. There he'd led a massacre of their peers.

And here. Here he'd dreamed of something different. "I failed you," Obi-Wan repeated in a whisper.

Padmé drew her hand down a pillow. "I slept beside him in this bed but I did not see." She glanced to the arch of the wall. "He told me he was struggling and I did not hear."

Obi-Wan stepped back toward her, distraught. "No, Padmé, you are not to blame for any of this."

"We are all to blame."

Her quiet words filled the room. Padmé stood, walked slowly to his side and reached up to cup his cheeks in her hands.

"I forgive you."

* * *

 

Obi-Wan and Padmé arrive back at the apartment at nearly the same time but it's hours before they can speak alone together. Dinners in their household are always a boisterous affair, and this evening is no different. They are hosting three additional Jedi, and a handful of persons assigned to the senator in some capacity.

Obi-Wan finds his thoughts straying to the future of the Order. He'd thought the solution he and Yoda had arrived at was sound but now he worries it remains untenable. The Academy had reverted to a true school, younglings came and went, staying in the temple only if they'd nowhere else to stay. Jedi Knights may have relationships, marry, and raise children outside the Order. To attain the rank of Master they must absolve themselves of all attachments and live within the temple walls.

Of the six Jedi at the table only Marta seems destined to become a Master, and it’s possible he only thinks so because he doesn't know her well. Caleb is clearly infatuated with Padmé's young Twi'lek pilot, Ahsoka left the Order years ago, and Obi-Wan can't imagine Luke or Leia choosing to live without each other or their mother, nor himself without any of them.

Maybe… maybe when the twins are grown and they've no more need of him. Maybe then he will return to his path. But this moment, today, he must admit. He doesn't want to.

'You were quiet at dinner." Obi-Wan glances over to find Padmé's eyebrow raised in query. She's become quite good at reading his moods.

"Yoda wants to train Leia," he explains.

Her eyes flash a warning. "What?"

He takes a breath and speaks calmly. "Master Yoda wants to take Leia on as his padawan."

"And Luke?"

Obi-Wan's calm falters a moment. "...He is leaving Luke's training to me."

"No," she answers, decisively. Obi-Wan crumbles.

"I promise I have learned from my mistakes," he tells her. "And the path of a Jedi is wider, now, he -- we -- will remain here, with you." He shakes his head. "I mean, if you will have … me.." He stumbles over the words, he is still out of practice. "If you… I will not… I will not fail him."

Padmé frowns. "No… That's not it. I won't have them separated." Obi-Wan starts, but strokes his chin thoughtfully. "What?" 

"It's your decision of course."

"But," she prompts.

He opens a hand towards her. "Leia is quite talented."

"And what? Luke would hold her back?" She crosses her arms defiantly, and defensively, against his open hand. " _I'm_ holding her back? Like I did Anakin?"

Obi-Wan pales, stricken, as if she'd slapped him. Padmé deflates at the sight and falls to the bed.

"I'm sorry." Her head drops into her hands. "I don't know what to do. I don't want…"

"You don't want to lose them." She makes no response but her eyes agree. "You won't. I promise." He settles beside her. "If the only change is more specialized attention -- for both of them, individually, but I can bring up together, too -- would you agree to that?"

She clasps her hands. The barest indicator of her distress but he's learned to peer behind the invisible mask she wears most hours of the day. The mantle of hero senator, mother, and survivor.  "And they can quit at any time? No guilt, no pressure. No…" Another tiny twitch. "It's always up to them. Not you, not Yoda, not …."

"Yes," he agrees. "It's always up to them."

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Not me, either," she concedes. "I know."

Obi-Wan watches with compassionate eyes. He reaches over to take her hand.

"She's talented?"

"Very. The best I've seen."

Padmé smiles, a small, sad smile, her eyes focused on something he can't see.

"Anakin would be so proud."


End file.
